"I won't. I won't. Go ahead."
"When I heard you bellowing," she said slowly, giving him a look, "I knew you'd be in no mind to listen to me, and all I could think to do was run off. The rain was unbelievable and I suppose I must have tripped on my dress. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I fell over and hit my head on the footpath."
"My poor dear," Margaret mumbled shaking her head. "My poor, poor dear."
"When I woke up I was in a strange house and I couldn't remember anything. Not my name, why I'd been running in the rain, nothing, and these very nice people took care of me until they saw the notice in the paper about my disappearance. Then they knew who I was, and it triggered my memory and I suddenly knew everything. It was late but they insisted they send you a note right away. I asked them not to tell you where I was. I needed a chance to think things through, and that's why Anne came around to see you this morning."
"Awfully kind of them to take such good care of you," Margaret said gratefully. "Walter, we must send them a gift, or an invitation to dinner."
"Yes, absolutely," he said vehemently. "Who are they, Flora? Where do they live?"
"I told you earlier they don't want any fuss. Can we please just put this behind us?"
Studying his sister George could see there was more to her story, and it was clear she didn't want them knowing the identity of her rescuers. The question was, why? What was she hiding?
"Perhaps Flora's had enough interrogating for the moment," George suggested. "Why don't we just enjoy our meal and be grateful she's back in one piece?"
"Good idea, George," Walter agreed not wanting any further upset, "but I do hope you'll change your mind, Flora, and let us thank these people appropriately."
"It's strange," she said thoughtfully. "I was only away two days but it feels like so much longer."
"It was a lifetime for us," her mother softly remarked. "You don't have to worry, Flora. We won't push any more men in your path. When you meet the right one it will be your choice, right Walter?"
"Don't you mean if she meets the right one?" he said raising his eyebrows.
"Walter!"
"Just make it soon, Flora. You're twenty-years-old, it's time!"
Flora didn't respond. Zane De'Ville was the only man for her, and in spite of their parting argument, she was sure he'd soon be arriving at her doorstep asking to see her or would send her a letter proclaiming how much he missed her.
"Flora, how about a quiet word after lunch," George suggested. "I'll be leaving in the morning. I have to get back to school."
"I'd love it, George. Of course."
The conversation turned to things mundane, and they were just finishing lunch when the sound of the doorbell alerted them to a visitor. Flora was sure it was Zane but resisted the temptation to run into the foyer. Reeves left the room to answer the door, but when he returned he moved directly to her father and spoke quietly in his ear. Had Zane asked to see him?
"Excuse me," Walter said rising to his feet. "This will only take a moment."
"Here we go with the mysteries again," George remarked as Walter left the room with the butler, and abruptly jumped up from the table and hurried away to crack open the door.
"George, come back at once," his mother scolded. "You shouldn't be spying. It's wrong."
"Gosh, it's a policeman," he said in a hushed whisper as he returned. "I wonder what he wants."
Flora's heart kicked up. A policeman? Was it about the blackmail attempt? Had Jimmy's plot been discovered?
"Excellent," Walter exclaimed marching back into the room.
"What is?" Margaret enquired. "Why are you smiling?"
"I know where you were, Flora my dear, and now I can send my most grateful thanks, but you mustn't worry I won't make a fuss. I'll send something appropriate. Some wine perhaps, with a letter. Something understated."
"That is good news," Margaret said nodding her head. "Who are these kindly people?"
Swallowing hard, wishing her heart would stop its wild thumping, Flora stared across at her pleased-as-punch father.
"New in the neighborhood apparently," Walter replied. "A family by the name of De'Ville. French, according to the officer, and the master of the house is a chap named Zane De'Ville."
George, who had been sipping a cup of tea, suddenly choked.
"Excuse me. Went down the wrong way," he declared. "I'm not sure I heard you father. Did you say, Zane De'Ville?"
"Indeed. Have you heard of the De'Villes?"
"No, no," George answered, then shot a look at his sister.
George knew exactly who Zane was, but how? And from the look on her brother's face he knew more than she did and he didn't approve.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Ushering Flora into the library, George closed the door and began to pace. Flora watched him, waiting for him to speak, but finally ran out of patience.
"George, what are you doing? Why don't you just say it?"
"Say what?" he said gruffly.
"Whatever it is you want to say. Obviously something has stirred you up. Look at you! We've been here five minutes and all you've done is walk around the room."
"Five minutes? Hardly! And I'm not saying anything because I don't know how to, uh, ask you this, or tell you…oh, damn and blast."
"George, take a deep breath. I know all about Zane De'Ville."
"I seriously doubt that. Did he…did you…? How am I supposed to have this conversation with my sister?" he exclaimed throwing up his arms. "Flora, I'm worried about you."
"George! You're awfully sweet when you want to be."
"You're my sister, for heaven's sake. I do care about you."
"Of course you do. Why don't you sit down?"
"I can't possibly sit down. Were you alone in the house with that man? What am I saying? Of course you were!"
"Stop fretting. Zane De'Ville is the most amazing man I've ever met. He's the most amazing man I'll ever meet."
"Oh, no, please don't tell me you've fallen for him," he said pausing his step and staring at her in dismay. "Please don't tell me that."
"I certainly have, and he feels the same."
"The man is not to be trusted," George said urgently. "He has a string of broken hearts behind him. Do you know what they call him in Paris?"
"I'm not sure, or was that a rhetorical question?"
"The Rogue Aristocrat. Doesn't that tell you everything there is to know?"
"I rather like that," she said with a cheeky grin. "The Rogue Aristocrat. You don't happen to know his real title, do you? He wouldn't tell me."
"What's the matter with you? Don't you understand? He's a cad. He's a French Casanova. Aren't you listening to me? You must escape his clutches while you can, um, you still can, can't you?" he asked, lowering his voice. "I mean, he hasn't—you didn't—?"
"George, honestly," she retorted. "I know what you're trying to ask me, and of course I didn't."
"Thank goodness for that."
"But he is the man I'm going to marry."
"What? Flora! That's impossible! He's not the marrying sort, and father will never approve once he learns about the man's reputation. You must get that notion out of your head."
"I'll do no such thing, and you mustn't tell father about the rogue business, and how do you know all this anyway? You're at school, how could you possibly hear such things?"
"You are joking," he quipped. "The chaps come back from their weekends with all sorts of stories about all sorts of people. It's all a bit laughable really."
"Why?"
"Because, Flora, people think they're being discreet when nothing could be further from the truth. They don't just do scandalous things they talk about scandalous things and the walls have ears. There are no secrets, but even as I say that I hope no-one finds out about this. Oh, good Lord! What am I saying?" he exclaimed flailing his arms in the air. "Father already knows it was the De'Ville family, but there is no family. There's only him! Zane!"
"That's
not true, George, secrets can be kept," she snapped, immediately thinking about Zane's footman and the blackmail attempt. "When it comes to Zane you must promise me you won't say a word to anyone."
Stuffing his hands into his pockets George looked at her solemnly.
"Promise me," she pressed. "George…?"
"I'm not sure I can do that."
"Why not? You must!"
"If I don't and he hurts you I'll never forgive myself."
"It's my life. It's my decision," she said angrily. "You have no right to interfere. You don't know him. All you know is gossip."
"Will you be seeing him? Is he going to come over here and visit?"
"I, uh…I hope so. I expect so."
"You're not even sure about him yourself. Why are we even having this conversation?"
"I am sure. I'm as sure as any woman can be about any man. Look at Millicent?"
"Millicent? What does she have to do with this?"
"She's not sure about you."
George paused his pacing and stared at her, then shook his head.
"No, I'm not discussing Millicent with you, and asking me to keep quiet about De'Ville…it's a problem," he mumbled. "I don't think you know who you've met."
"I know exactly who I've met, and if you don't promise to keep quiet I'll…I'll…"
"You'll what?"
"I tell Millicent some things you don't want me to."
"Flora! You wouldn't."
She was about to say in her most emphatic voice that she would, but Zane's adage floated through her head. There is no truth that is worse than a lie.
"I'm sorry, George, I would never do that," she said with a sigh, "and you can thank Zane that I just told you the truth."
"Zane? Why?"
"He doesn't lie. He says, there is no truth that is worse than a lie. I'm not sure I agree with him, but generally I think he's probably right."
"Zane De'Ville said that?"
"He did. He's terribly nice, honestly, and I would never turn Milly against you. I love you, and I think she's awfully sweet, and she's very good for you."
"In that case I won't say anything to father," he said resignedly, "but I'm still worried."
"Zane told me he was a rogue. He told me how he'd been with many women. He told me my family would never approve of him, and I should walk away and never look back."
"He did?"
"He did, but I won't. He's scared of me, but he'll come around."
"I doubt a man like Zane De'Ville is scared of any woman."
"I put that wrong. He's not scared of me exactly, he's scared by how much he cares about me."
"Flora, my dear sister, do you really have your heart set on him?"
"I do, totally, and maybe I'm wrong about him but I don't think so. I already miss him dreadfully, and I only left him a few hours ago."
"I can't believe I'm going to say this…can I give you a bit of advice?"
"Really? After all those protests you want to give me advice?"
"Let's face it. Once you have your sights set on something there's no stopping you, so I suppose the best thing I can do is lend a hand, though I'm not sure I should."
"George, you really are a dear."
"Don't spread it about," he said with a grin.
"What is it? What's the advice?"
"Let's see, how do I put this? I've heard he's a handsome chap. Is that true?"
"Very," Flora replied rolling her eyes.
"Charming, and sort of, take charge?"
"Yes, definitely."
"A man like that is used to women throwing themselves at his feet. You need to be different."
"I think I already am," she murmured, recalling how she'd lectured him and marched from the bedroom.
"I'm not sure what you mean, but Flora, let him come after you. You're worth it."
"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I think you might be right about that. Thanks, George."
"And for goodness sake," he said solemnly, walking across to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, "have him on your terms."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Forgive me for saying this. It's awkward but it must be said. Only do what you're comfortable doing, and don't do anything you're not ready for. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"Yes, George, and you don't have to worry about that. I'm my own person, even with him."
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had been three long days and nights and Flora had not heard a word from Zane. Every time there'd been a knock on the door her heart had skipped. She'd constantly checked the silver tray on the foyer table for a note, trying not to feel dismayed when there was none. When the house was asleep she'd stand at her window and gaze up at the clouds crossing the moon wondering if he was thinking of her. Finally climbing into bed she'd close her eyes and send her fingers between her legs, remembering how he had spanked her, and kissed her, and held her so lovingly in his arms. On the morning of the fourth day she couldn't bear it another moment; she had to know if he'd abandoned her. There was only one way to find out. She had to see him, but how?
As she slipped from her bed and pulled the bell cord for Lucy, she had an idea. She could wait for him at Anne's place. Anne could lure him there. Thinking she might have to leave the house in a hurry, she chose her pale green dress with the lace accents. The color highlighted her green eyes and the lace trim was elegant and feminine. A knock at the door signaled Lucy's arrival, and as the young maid helped her dress Flora's excited anticipation took hold. She would be seeing the man she loved very soon, she could feel it.
"How would you like your hair my lady?" Lucy asked as Flora sat at her vanity in front of the mirror.
"Brush it up at the sides and bring it together at the top."
"Yes, my lady."
With no-one to style her hair when she was at Zane's it had been loose around her shoulders. He'd mentioned how much he liked it that way and the memory made her smile.
"Anything else, my lady?" Lucy asked. "If I may say so, you look awfully fetching."
"Thank you, and no, nothing else."
Lucy left, and moving to her full-length oval mirror Flora studied her reflection. The dress was perfect, her hair was perfect, and suddenly a second idea floated through her mind, but it was wicked! Dare she do such a thing? The more she pondered her scandalous notion the more appealing it became, and impulsively she undertook the devilish action.
Finally ready she made her way down to the dining room and took her chair at the breakfast table, but she had no desire for idle conversation, nor did she have an appetite. She did need to please her parents though, so she visited the buffet, piled some scrambled eggs into her dish, and forced a smile as she chased them around her plate. She could hear her mother chattering about something, but all Flora could think about was meeting up with Zane.
"You should wear your burgundy dress. It's so elegant."
"I'm sorry, mother?" Flora replied bewildered by her mother's declaration. "What about my burgundy dress?"
"I said you should wear your new burgundy dress to the Stewart's ball on Saturday. You've been a bit glum these last few days. The ball is just what you need to brighten yourself up and you look ravishing in that gown."
"I have been feeling a bit grim," she admitted, "and I'm not sure I'm up to attending a party, big or small."
"Flora, before I leave for my monthly meeting there's something I must tell you," her father said solemnly, "and I don't want you getting upset."
"That doesn't sound promising," she mumbled. "Whenever you start that way it means it's something I don't wish to hear."
"Be that as it may," her father continued, "I've received word there'll be a very eligible young man at the ball and I'd like you to meet him."
"There are always eligible young men at these parties," she said with a sigh, "and I know them all."
"Not this one! He's visiting from France. Apparently he'll be attending as a guest of Lord Featherstone. I've bee
n told he's a handsome chap. Apparently all the young ladies are quite taken with him."
Flora lifted her eyes from her plate and stared across the table. Was it possible? Was her father talking about Zane?
"What else do you know about him?"
"Interest? Do I detect interest?" her mother chimed in, delighted that her daughter had asked.
"Yes, a bit, after all, if other girls find him attractive I might too."
"Indeed," her father said with a wide smile. "He's from a noble family—"
"That's no surprise," Flora interrupted. "You wouldn't want me to meet him if he wasn't."
"My dear, you are a royal," he said patiently. "You must marry accordingly, and preferably to someone higher in status."
"I'm not a royal. I'm only related to the royals."
"That qualifies you, Flora," her mother quipped. "Now stop interrupting your father. You wanted to know about this young man so let him tell you."
"Thank you, Margaret. As I was saying, he's from a noble family of some note and they own acres and acres of vineyards. He was educated at Oxford and is so well-spoken one would think he was born here. I do hope you'll give him the time of day. If you don't like him I won't push, but I would ask that you will at least dance with him and talk to him, even if only for a few minutes?"
Flora could hardly believe her ears. It had to be Zane, and trying to control the excited thumping in her heart she took a long breath before answering.
"Yes, father, if he asks me to dance I shall accept, and if he's agreeable I will most certainly listen to what he has to say."
"Does that mean you'll come?" her mother asked doing nothing to hide her eagerness.
"Yes, mother, I believe I will."
"Excellent!" her father beamed rising from the table. "Now I really must be going. One can't be late to these meetings."
"Father, before you go, does this exceptional young man have a name?"
"Featherstone did tell me. What was it? I recall it was unusual, probably why I can't remember. Never mind, you'll find out soon enough. I'll be lunching at the club so I won't return until later this afternoon."
As he marched from the room Margaret smiled across at her daughter.
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